"No," replied Graham, as he stood in the doorway carelessly twirling his hat in his hand; "is he very ill?"
"We do not know; we have heard only a rumor. Hugh has gone to find out the exact truth."
"Ah—yes. If it is fever, no doubt he caught it in that unpleasant locality where his chapel stands," said Graham. "I have often wondered how he could endure the life he leads, but I suppose he is not fastidious. His nature is not so finely wrought, or his nerves so delicately strung as those of some other organizations."
"His nature is strong and manly," replied Aunt Faith, with a shade of indignation in her voice.
"Ah, yes, exactly. A man in his position has need of strength," said Graham loftily. Then, after a pause, "You have heard of my good fortune, Mrs. Sheldon?"
"I have heard that your uncle was dead, Mr. Marr."
"Ah—yes. Poor old gentleman! I never knew him well; we were not at all sympathetic. My grandfather's singular will has now been fulfilled, and the estate, which has rolled up to double its original value, will now be divided between my two Southern cousins and myself."
"I congratulate you, Mr. Marr."
"Thank you. I think I shall not discredit my fortune; I have long endeavored to cultivate the tastes which belong to wealth," said Graham with languid pride.
At this moment Bessie returned. "Sibyl is in the parlor, Mr. Marr," she said; "will you walk in?"